


Renounced

by honeydripper



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: F/M, Hello again, and i dont need any stranger telling me this, but that being said i hope you enjoy, i am back but unsure if this will be a regular thing, i had been working on this piece for a while but it was for myself rather than others, i have nothing to prove on this site because i know im a good writer, this piece is my heart and i have worked very hard on it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydripper/pseuds/honeydripper
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter One

It had been brewing for months- like tea steeped for too long, bitter with each swallow. 

She had noticed the signs; the distance, the secrecy, the grotesque way his ribs jutted from under porcelain skin, as if they were to pierce through if he breathed too hard. 

“Harder,”

He’s on top of her, thrusting wildly as she focuses on the sweat gathering atop his brow. She remembers how it used to be before things went awry. Late mornings spent burrowed under the covers and the way his eyes would light up at the sight of her. Things are different now, she can’t remember the last morning he spent with her or Juniper. His eyes are muddled with something she does not know, something she does not want to know. 

It’s between these moments that she feels the loneliest, lonely even when pressed this close. Lonely even when he grates out a broken noise and comes. Lonely even when he kisses her breast and makes the length of her torso to where she's slippery and open. 

She pushes him away by the shoulders with stinging eyes and a throat a bit too tight. Orgasm is lonely, too. And besides, she promised Juniper some ice cream.

“Are you coming? I’m sure Juniper would like to spend time with you.”

Silken underwear dragged up her thighs and worn cotton socks pulled to her ankles. She pulls her dress back on with ease, fiddling with the back tie until it's secure. By the time she’s dressed, Jimmy has already nodded off, arm slung over his eyes to block out the mid afternoon sun. Lip pulled between her teeth, Sophie focuses on his wrist. She always admired how delicately he was built, almost birdlike with distinguishable intricacy. He was built as if handcrafted by some omniscient god, utter perfection marred by human error. She kisses the delicate bone of his wrist before leaving the room. The loneliness sits low in her belly, she wipes her eyes and pads to Juniper's room.

Pale green, she smiles remembering the day her and Jimmy painted the nursery, their handprints immortalized in white paint next to the bedroom window. Below is a pint sized pair of handprints belonging to their daughter. Juniper is four now, bust she might as well be fourteen. Sophie is awestruck every day by how much he is held in their daughter. She has his laugh, his pert button nose. Most ardently, she has his tenderness. Jimmy had always had a special bond with his daughter. In many cases, he was the only one that fully understood her, how she was thinking. Teaching her how to express her emotions had nurtured him, in a sense. She taught him more about loving than anyone else ever could have. 

She sits at the edge of Juniper's tiny bed and runs a hand down her back. Sophie watches as Juniper rouses slowly from her sleep, blonde hair spilling out of the bun she had put up for her earlier that day. Eventually, familiar green eyes meet hers with a smile to match. 

“Did you have a good sleep, my love?”

Moments pass, Juniper nods slowly and responds with a hefty yawn, not fully awake. Just like him, she’s quiet when waking up. 

“Can we have ice cream?” 

Large servings of vanilla ice cream are portioned into cereal bowls, absentmindedly, Sophie reaches for a third bowl. Her eyes sting remembering the days when he was attached to her hip, when they were a family. She plops a kiss to the top of Juniper’s head once handing her the bowl. 

Most days have a simple, inevitable rhythm. Juniper knows that her father will make a cursory appearance, but only Sophie knows the reason why. Or at least, she’s observed, guessed, asked in guarded ways when he manages one of those appearances. Like now. Half his body in the doorframe, gaze shuttered. He’ll be out. 

“I’ll be out,” he says with a half smile at Juniper. 

She lights up and holds her arms out, just like when she first learned to toddle around- pick me up please, kiss please. Jimmy takes a few steps in the kitchen to give her a kiss, just where Sophie had.

“I’ll be late,” he murmurs.

Sophie grips the back of a chair until her fingers ache under the stress. 

“Okay,” she offers a tight smile, then, stupidly, knowing she can’t force him, she adds, “Be safe.”

Jimmy doesn’t look at her, doesn’t answer Juniper’s question. Will he make it back for tuck in? Will he read to her? Will he be present? Sophie can’t remember the last time he was present, even when he’s in the room. He’s half out. 

“Juni,” she says in a voice too calm and placid. “Finish your snack, my love.”

Jimmy raises his hand in a wave as he turns. The day will stretch on, the door will close, she must take care of Juniper. She must keep the rhythm. Even when it all falls apart.


	2. Chapter 2

Sophie laves kisses to both of Juniper’s cheeks before tucking her under the covers. She had been awfully quiet for the majority of the evening; through supper and a quick bath, through the story Sophie had read to her. The closer it came to her bedtime the more Juniper understood that Jimmy would not be there to tuck her in. 

“Mumma?”

Her voice is small and Sophie's heart clenches painfully when she turns to her, seeing tears welling in molten green eyes.

“Yes?” She can feel her own voice start to waver, and clears her throat before continuing, “What is it, my love?”

Juniper goes silent for a handful of moments, eyes focused on the intricate floral pattern of the bedspread. Sophie recognizes the way her brows furrow together, how painfully similar she is to him. 

“Does Daddy still like me?”

Her question sits like a rock in Sophie’s throat, takes the wind out of her and stings her eyes. Alongside that, she’s angry. Angry at Jimmy for putting their daughter in this situation, for sowing these seeds of doubt within Juniper, allowing her to feel so rejected by someone she looks up to so much. She gathers Juniper up in her arms and squeezes tight, smoothing her hair with the palm of her hand. She wishes she could fix things, to take away all of this hurt. 

“Of course he does, Juniper. He loves you more than there are stars in the sky.” 

Wordlessly, Juniper burrows into her mother’s chest, seeking out any sort of comfort she can. Sophie busies her hands with braiding and unbraiding Juniper’s hair until her breath falls even against Sophie’s chest. 

With heavy eyes, Sophie allows herself to ease into the comfort of Juniper’s bed, tucking the covers around both of their bodies before letting exhaustion take over. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing wakes her up. He’s home. Anger sits low and awakens crescent moons in the palm of her hand. Carefully, Sophie climbs out of the pint-sized bed, placing a kiss to Juniper’s forehead before heading downstairs. 

She’s met with hooded eyes. Locks of inky black hair are stuck at his temples, wisps of gray smattered through.

“You missed dinner, and tuck in.” 

He’s yet to look her in the eye but she knows how he’s feeling whether he admits it to her or not. Whether he confesses or not. She knows he feels guilty, but the anger she has surpasses any sort of refrain from her emotions. 

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re home or present for my sake. But you owe it to your daughter to be there for her when you’re around, do you not understand that? Do you not want that for her?”

He focuses on the wood grain of the floor below for a moment, before flitting his eyes to hers. 

“Of course I want to be around more, Sophie. I can’t help if there’s work to be done at the studio, you know that.” 

A scoff leaves her before she can even register it, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. She wants to scream, to hold his face in her hands like she used to, ask him why he’s let it get this bad, what happened to them, to _him_. 

“You and I both know you weren’t at the studio. Not this late.” 

Silence swathes the room, the foundation of the house creaks as though it's trying to ease the tension. Jimmy fiddles with a loose thread of his shirt, bony fingers grazing the clasp of his watch. 

“She asked if you still liked her, right before bed. She notices your absence, Jimmy, you know how sensitive she is.”

Sophie doesn’t miss the haggard breath he takes, or the quick swipe of his finger underneath his eye. Moments that feel like hours pass, her hands shake with some undefinable emotion. She settles on something between disappointment and heartache.

“I’m going to bed, we can talk more about this in the morning.” 

They both know that’s not true. In the morning, he’ll wake before her, and be out the door before breakfast. What he always does when the topic of his health comes up. She knows him as if he were a part of her. In some way, he is, she can’t remember a time without him in it, maybe that’s what hurts her the most. He’s become unreachable, and they both know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve refrained from deleting this in its entirety, there have been times where I want to delete every work I’ve ever written and forget about this moment in my life. However, I owe it to myself to finish this piece no matter the emotional state I’m in. I don’t know what it is about writing that takes so much out of me, it’s almost like a chore to do at times. There are days where I feel so insignificant in this realm, do my ideas carry through, do they hold emotion like I want them to? Sometimes I focus more on appealing to others rather than making sure I’m fulfilled emotionally. Maybe that's what carries through in the writing. Or maybe this is just another story by yet another person who adores jp... I don’t know why I’m rambling about this nonsense, but I hope that whoever reads this has enjoyed. He has so much of my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a process in the making, as I said this piece is my heart, I wanted to portray JP and what was going on with him during that time differently than others. He is a real person, and addiction cannot and should not be treated as a gimmick or a reason to disregard him as a real human who suffered. 
> 
> I wanted to take time to personally thank ladygrange who helped me with this piece, I am a bit rusty when it comes to writing so their help with formatting and getting ideas down was so crucial. Thanks again.


End file.
